Chapter 23

I take a seat on the edge of my daughter's bed, and Clyde flops himself right on the floor next to us. Even though Amelia is feeling much better, the past week has still taken a lot out of her little body. We got home a few hours ago, and after playing with her toys on the floor for a while, she's ready for bed.

"What book tonight, babe?" I pick through the stack of her favorites. "What about Dragons Love Tacos ? I think Clyde likes that one. Because, you know, he loves tacos, and he's the size of a dragon." I look down at Clyde. "Your breath smells like a dragon's probably does, too, big fella."

"Daddy?" she says, not answering my question. "Do you love Maci?"

She catches me off guard, and I have no idea what the hell to even say. For being three and a half years old, she's incredibly smart. But she doesn't really know how relationships and things work, and I don't have the slightest clue where to take this conversation.

I open my mouth, and she hugs her stuffie a little tighter.

"Because I do."

My chest warms, and my heart squeezes as her beautiful little face looks up at me.

"Y-you do?" I whisper.

"Yes," she says matter-of-factly. "And her loves me too. And her loves you too, Daddy. I can tell." She pauses, taking a little breath. "Uncle Walker and Poppy love each other. And you and Maci love each other. Right?"

"Would you be okay with it if we did?" I ask softly, feeling incredibly nervous that I'm about to say the wrong thing and fuck up this conversation.

Her head bobs up and down quickly. "Yes. I want …" She stops, running her fingers through the fur on her stuffed animal. "I want Maci to be in our family." Her eyes peek over the edge of her bed. "And Clyde too."

In this moment, there is no right thing to say, and I know that. Maci and I only just came clean about our feelings. We're far from a place where Amelia is going to call her mom or understand the past that has haunted Maci for so long.

But I know one thing … I'm not letting Maci get away because I'm not the only one who loves and needs her.

After calling my mom and sister to check in and let them know Amelia made it home, I sit in the kitchen and open my author Instagram. I smile when I see the excitement around the title reveal of my newest book. I sent it to Holly yesterday, and let's just say … she wasted no time plastering it all over my socials to stir up some buzz.

"There's that pretty smile I love so much," Logan drawls sweetly, walking into the kitchen and kissing my cheek. "What's got you so happy? I haven't even shown you my wiener yet since we got home."

Home. It's just a four-letter word, but it makes my heart skip a beat. I know he doesn't mean it, as in this place is our home, but I still can't stop myself from feeling all warm and gooey inside over it.

Setting my phone down, I exhale slowly. "I released the title and blurb of my next book. And I guess I'm just overwhelmed—in the best way—by the responses I've received from my readers." My heart feels all tingly. "They never cease to amaze me."

"Please, babe, do tell me this title." He takes the seat next to mine. "Since I'm, you know, the hot inspiration and all that."

"Take a guess," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Hints. It's a single dad, hockey romance. Forced proximity. All the good stuff."

He taps his finger along the stubble of his chin thoughtfully. " Sexy Hockey Daddy ?"

I shake my head, so he rattles off another. " Pucking the Hockey Hottie ?"

"Hell no." I snort.

" Daddy Sterns ?" he guesses.

"Nope. Although that sounds kind of hot."

"All right," he sighs. "I give up. Tell me the name of your newest book."

Suddenly, I grow bashful. Obviously, the story isn't exactly ours. The names are changed, as are other details. But this story that I'm so proud of … so much of it was inspired by our own story and what it took to get here, to this moment where we're sitting in this kitchen with absolutely no secrets between us.

" With You, I Am ," my voice barely squeaks.

I feel the energy shift.

"And what made you choose that?" his deep voice whispers.

I swallow, forcing myself to speak honestly. When it comes to my work, I've always been shy to share details outside of the book world. But this isn't just about my writing or my characters.

This is about us.

"Because in the story, the female main character is so lost. And so sad. She's never felt good enough." My voice grows hoarser as my throat throbs with emotion working its way up. "She is going through the motions, but not actually living because she thinks life as she knows it is over." My eyes cloud with tears. "And it's true. Her life will never be the same. But then—not in one day, but over the course of time—it gets better. Because a man and his daughter so graciously allow her to be a part of their lives. And that mends her heart." I pause to swallow. "They make her whole again."

I'm full-on crying now, and when Logan cups my cheeks and gives me that look—the one that makes my heart skip a dang beat—it only gets worse.

"You see, in the story, he doesn't look at her and see a control freak who is annoyingly organized and overly cautious. He sees her for … her. And when she's with them, she has hope. When she's with them, she never feels like she should change." I croak the last few words out. "And for that, she can't thank him enough."

"It sounds to me like he's the luckiest man alive. Because he has someone who is strong and knows exactly who she is and isn't going to change for anything or anyone." He brings his face closer to mine. "It sounds to me like he's found himself a real one."

His lips kiss mine now, and my breath is taken away with emotion as I cry against him.

"With you, I'm not forced to be anyone else. With you, I'm just me." My lip trembles. "And maybe to some people, that wasn't enough. But with you, Logan"—my voice cracks—"I am enough."

"You are so much more than enough, Boston," he whispers, kissing my lips. "You're everything. You're perfect for me." Pulling back, he keeps my cheeks cupped. "With you, I'm the man I want to be. For you and for Amelia. So, thank you, Boston, for making me a better person. And for loving my daughter the way that you do."

"I love her so much," I whisper, sniffling. "I can't even describe it. So, thank you for letting me be a part of her life. She's precious. And incredible. And the two of you … you healed me. You made me whole again."

"And you've made us whole," he murmurs against my lips. "You, Maci McKenzie, are what was missing, even though I never realized it until you crashed into our lives."

His lips connect with mine, but this time, he deepens the kiss and moves his hand to my neck as his tongue slips into my mouth.

"Goddamn, it's been a long week without burying myself deep inside of you," he grumbles before quickly standing and lifting me into his arms.

As my legs wrap around his waist and he heads toward the bedroom, our lips never part.

I've never wanted him more than I do in this moment. Every single cell in my body is starved to be close to this man. It's not because it's been a week and I'm greedy for his touch. But because we're closer emotionally than we've ever been before, and I need him.

We've had sex quite a few times. We've done lots of other filthy things too. But something between us feels different right now. We feel closer. In fact, I've never felt so validated by anyone or anything in my entire life as I am right now.

It's like, in some way, now that there is no deep secret I'm holding on to, I'm free to just … feel. And not have that voice in the back of my head telling me that once he knows, he's going to hate me.

He doesn't hate me. And through his kiss, his words, and his actions, I feel his love.

After peeling my own clothes off, I stare down at her on my bed. An angel sent to me by someone who knew I needed one and that my daughter did too.

I've been with this woman more times than I've ever been with anyone else sexually. I've made her come undone on my fingers, tongue, and cock. I know her body, her sounds, what will make her go crazy, and what will make her go off in an instant. But this time is different for us. We've been through more now, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I love her. That I want to spend my life with her.

Peeling her leggings and panties off, I toss them to the floor and reach for her top. Her big, beautiful eyes stare up at me, and I can feel the love in them. She looks lighter than she's ever looked, like a weight was lifted, and now, all I can see is her and not her past that was pulling her down.

I finish pulling her top off and unclasp her bra. Kissing her bare breast, one by one, bringing each nipple into my mouth, I push her backward. "I love you," I murmur, dragging my lips over her stomach.

Tugging my hair, she lifts my head up so that my eyes are on hers. "I love you," she whispers back, her eyes staring into mine.

I want to taste her again, but mostly, I just need to be inside of her. So, sliding on top of her, I part her legs and position the tip of my cock at her entrance. Not slow, but all at once, I thrust inside of her. She cries out, but her nails dig into the flesh of my back, and her heels press into my legs as I bury myself balls deep in her sweet heat.

I look down at her while I pump in and out, taking in the sight of my woman so full of my cock, and her cheeks redden.

Pressing my palm against the bed, I lift myself higher over her to get a better look at her gorgeous body. "I love you," I say again, unable to stop myself.

"I love you," she whispers, her lips parting as she drags in a breath.

"I wanna fill you so full of my cum, Mace," I pant. "Wanna feel it dripping out of you."

Her perfect breasts bounce with every thrust of my hips, and her nails dig deeper. "Yes," she whimpers, her brows pulling together, and her hips lift from the bed, bucking against mine.

Her pussy clenches around my cock, pulsating as she begins to ascend into her orgasm. She's never gripped my skin so firmly before or wrapped her legs so tightly around my body.

As my cock spews my seed deep inside of her, I lean forward, assaulting her lips with mine. Our lips work in absolutely no rhyme or reason as my orgasm hits its peak. I can't stop the long groan that leaves my lips against hers because, fuck, she feels so good, coming with me.

My vision grows darker, and little specks dance in my eyes as I pound into her until the very end. And once her pussy stops squeezing my cock, I press a kiss to her forehead. "Goddamn, I love you, Maci McKenzie."

I rake my lips down her cheek and to her lips.

My entire life, I've never given a shit about a relationship. In my eyes, that meant someone was holding me down.

She could tie me down with fucking barbed wire, and I'd thank her.